


Hit Me Like I Hit You

by mrhiddles



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: F/M, Light Masochism, Masochism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhiddles/pseuds/mrhiddles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masochism.<br/>1 - a sexual perversion characterized by pleasure in being subjected to pain or humiliation especially by a love object.<br/>2 - pleasure in being abused or dominated : a taste for suffering.</p>
<p>Jane worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. now, and sometimes that meant doing things you normally never would have to keep your job, to stay alive.</p>
<p>Now, everything was Loki, Loki, Loki. Everything from the bloom of  light bruises across her body, to the ripple of still-bleeding slashes across his back.</p>
<p>"I've deserved it, haven't I?"</p>
<p>"Scream for me, Jane..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit Me Like I Hit You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Marvel or the Norse, though I wish terribly I had been born a Viking.
> 
> Be forewarned the following contains mild depictions of whipping, descriptions of violence, and can be considered triggering content.

"That's sick."

"Oh, but Jane," he whispered along the fine hairs along the back of her neck. "That's the best part. Watching you scream."

She felt the deep, clawing ache ripple between her legs as a tongue razed wetly against her neck. Thin lips smiled shamelessly against her skin, touching her with long fingers where she knew he'd find some way to reach again. After this. After tonight.

His breath fanned her flesh into bright, tingling gooseflesh. "For me."

Jane felt the plunge of his fingers and then all was lost to pleasure.

OOO

"Jane, you okay? Look pale as a phantom."

"What? I'm fine, why would you say that?" she returned, voice hinging on defensive.

Darcy quirked a brow and eyed her, tilting her head to the side like _oookay, whatever you say_.

Turning fierce, searching eyes to her oldest friend, Erik, she saw that he too was watching her. Watching with something akin to worry. Same old Erik.

And in the very back of the lab, very nearly caged within a glass-and-plastic cell shaped in what looked to be a large jar, Loki watched her most intensely of all. But his eyes held not worry or concern.

They held knowing. A clever, primeval glint in his eyes. He would have her, it said. Again, and again, and again…

However long it took.

She glared defiantly, standing her ground even though she too knew tonight would be no different than all the rest, and went back to her work. Loki wasn't going to distract her from her thoughts. Loki wasn't going to take her away from her work. Loki. Loki. Loki.

Loki.

OOO

"Say it," he said on a harsh breath of air against her ear, hips rolling up and into her from behind. She bit back the sound that wanted so desperately to escape. _Just let it go_. _Let it go_.

No.

"Again."

Another snap of hips against the backs of her thighs.

" _Say it_."

The unflattering sound of slapping flesh filled her ears until there was nothing else. Only the gradual incline of pleasure, curling and roiling in her gut, ready any moment to—

She arched back and breathed out wetly, hands finding the curve of his rear as he continued to move inside her. _Again, again, again_.

His hand, cold, so cold, snuck along her clavicle to rest firmly against the curve of her neck. Jane felt her carotid artery pulsing hotly against his fingers, sure he felt it too. Felt the lifeline beating hotly in time to his thrusts, her life literally in his hands as he took her from behind. Took what he shouldn't have been allowed to take.

It had been a series of events. A series of late night observations until he just stepped through the glass to stand before her. Smile wide and teeth sharp as he bore down upon her, eyes full and rimmed with that ever devilish glint. A look she recognized easily now.

But Loki was talking.

And that's what S.H.I.E.L.D. needed.

It wasn't that bad of a job honestly.

OOO

" _Scream, damn you._ Scream until your lungs rip apart and seep blood."

He spoke like this sometimes, during it. Jane had minded greatly at first, but she knew it as his way of releasing whatever emotion he harbored during the long days kept awake and observed.

That's how it all started, after all.

Now they were just empty threats that barely rattled her heart. But the occasional pull at her hair, gentle though it was, the bruises she found from long fingers pressed against the crux of her thighs, the pressure she occasionally felt against her neck…it did still make her heart race. In a way that said no, this is wrong, stop it. Stop everything.

What about Thor?

But Thor wasn't coming back and she'd accepted that.

Loki let loose a low groan, holding her close as he said her name, and nearly shocked her right out of her own orgasm. She felt him shake against her, riding it out, but all she could do was maintain a loose grip on the hair at the base of his neck.

Lips muttered hotly against her neck afterwards, and he withdrew.

And so concluded another night. One among so many others.

But marked in a way she wouldn't be able to forget.

OOO

It was a week later when he let her ride him.

Loki spoke in a low string of what Jane first thought were curses. He was chanting almost, the way he said the words, a mantra to be ritualized and worshipped. But the longer he went on, eyes closed, hands tight at her hips, she lost track of what he could be saying.

Maybe he _was_ cursing her.

She drove down particularly hard and he actually _moaned_. She quirked a lusty smile, and did it again, nearly pinching herself to the point of pain. Again, the same noise.

Well.

She leaned down and took a page from his own book.

" _Scream for me, Loki_."

Green eyes snapped wide and met her own, hooded by her own pleasure, but plainly amused by his reaction.

And he smirked. Oh, how he smirked.

She swore she even saw teeth as it widened to a cruel, easy grin.

OOO

"Ms. Foster, I need to speak with you, please?"

Jane turned to see Coulson staring at her from about a foot away, usual casual smile and all. He gestured to the elevator on the other side of the room, and she nodded, going. All she could think was _does he know, what, how do I explain—_

Once enclosed inside the elevator, Coulson clicked the button to halt it. They had hardly moved a few inches.

She eyed him, trying to hide her nerves, but he took the chance to speak from her.

"We've tried every other method, but he's shut himself up again."

"He was being cooperative I thought?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm afraid not, not for a while. We were looking to try…other methods."

She knew.

"Torture."

The curve of his lips turned grim. "We were thinking since he talks the most with you—"

"What?" she huffed out. They couldn't _possibly_ think she'd subject anyone, not even Loki to, to—

"Ms. Foster." Oh, she knew that tone. She _hated_ that tone. "It wasn't a question."

It was the tone that said _don't fuck with our organization._ The tone that said _you don't want to lose all credibility in the science community, do you?_ The tone that said _you don't have family Jane Foster, Erik is old, Darcy is young and off at college, accidents happen all the time on Spring break…_

Oh, if Thor knew.

But that was the thing. Thor wasn't here.

Might never be.

OOO

That night she cradled the weight of the belt in her hand and cried.

Loki saw her tears and knew it for what it was. Everything passed silently between them in the firm set of his jaw, the line of his lips, the acceptance, the _knowing_ in his eyes.

It was only when he smiled, a tiny one, that she allowed the leather to welt his skin. That she felt her limbs move free of her mind.

Because this was her life now. This was her job.

This was Loki. Loki. Loki.

Tears blurred her vision past seeing, the bright seeping red lines etched into her mind.

The small sickle showing of his white teeth.

The blood that spotted her hands.

The inertia of it took the control away from her, brought the belt down through sheer force of push and pull. Keep it going or it will fail, ceasing to exist. Energy, energy. Basic for her line of profession. Basic for everything. Even the act of beating.

Later on, she felt her thoughts be swallowed by pleasure, the vigorous, enthralled pace of his hips between her thighs nearly blocking out the choppy, raised and still bleeding lines across the strength of his shoulders. Couldn't forget, not completely.

Loki said her name again that night, right next to her mouth.

Said it again even more quietly as he brushed lean thumbs under her lashes, watched as they came away wet.

No, couldn't forget. Not completely.

OOO

The next night she was angry.

Loki let her be angry.

He came away with a greater array of cuts across his shoulders and lower back, thick clouds of bruising already shrouding his pale flesh.

She came away with a set of bruises of her own, lining the soft gathering of her breasts, the dip of her clavicle, the intimate curvature of her belly. At the base of her neck, covered by the falling of her hair, he left another, smaller mark, hidden to all but them.

Just as his injuries, and his reasons for taking them, would be.

OOO

Coulson gave her a smile the next time she saw him. He gave her a pat on the arm too.

Loki watched the interaction with a frown, and he met her eyes across the room.

_Everything_.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was happy. They got what they wanted. Another puppet to pull the strings when they wanted to get what they wanted exactly how they wanted it.

They no longer questioned her. He was cooperating. Jane knew most of the things Loki fed them were lies anyway.

When Loki had a slight limp the following week, and a great many dark sideways glances at Jane during the usual workday, Erik didn't even question it.

It just was.

If anyone noticed the slant of her shoulders, or the slight glower in her eyes, no one said a thing.

She was sure the slightly awed expressions her coworkers threw her these days, the ones that didn't know her that well, were because the fact her newest job was to beat their captive into submission had become common knowledge.

Like they knew what really happened, night after night...

When Erik gave her a tight hug, sorrow etched deep in every line of his face, she knew her suspicions to be true.

She hadn't thought she'd seen so much blood until that night, when she went to Loki.

OOO

The first night he caught her hand, stilling her actions and _refusing_ to be beat as long as he usually allowed himself to be, was the same night he acknowledged just how wrong all of this really was.

Loki didn't do that.

His acknowledgement came in the deep, tongue-parting-lips sort of kiss that he had never given her before. They didn't kiss. That had become some sort of unsaid rule between them. But it didn't stop her from reciprocating.

It didn't stop her from crying into his chest afterward either, hands gripping his own like an apology.

It didn't stop the way he laid his chin atop her head, allowed his skin to be spotted by her tears, mottling what little residue of blood was painted across his pectorals.

It was wrong. So wrong.

Jane just didn't know which part.

OOO

They had not lain together for a month following that night. Neither had she beaten him.

It was a shared secret between them that he had control of his magic, at least part of it. And so he cosmetically altered himself to be covered in bruises and acted with a half limp some days. He was monitored and checked after all.

Thankfully he knew how to fool the cameras.

Eventually though, it all bubbled up inside Jane and she went to him, leather thick and heavy in the crux of her small hand.

"Hit me."

He did a tilt of his head and a small trickle of laughter rang from deep within his chest. "What?"

She tossed the leather at him but all he did was drop the small smile he kept. He sobered, humor forgotten. The belt lay at his feet, untouched.

"Jane, you must do this."

"No! I don't—"

A blink and he was before her, gripping her arms. "Foolish! You have not challenged me in battle; you are not a warrior to be fought—"

She tried to talk but he cut her off, grip nearing painful.

"Take the thing and carry out your task, as you need." He stepped away only to grab it, shoving it back into her hands. Jane refused, letting it drop limply from her fingers.

Loki looked ready to harm her, really he did. Jane didn't understand why he didn't.

"Jane—"

"Hit me. Like I hit you."

"Why—"

"I've deserved it haven't I?"

His eyes widened then, mouth forming a small o. A touch of sadness entered his eyes then and he neared her. She stood her ground, allowing it when he placed delicate, easy fingers along her neck, raising her chin. Allowed it when he kissed her. Allowed it when he moved hands under her clothes and ignored it when her hands responded in kind.

Something was missing.

Jane rebuked, shoving hard fists against his chest, surprising him enough upon breaking the kiss so savagely that he didn't have the reflex to evade, or catch her fist as it collided against his jaw. She felt it pop under her hit, and felt instantly sorry under the sudden rage she felt.

But the fire in his eyes as he looked at her then, the way he rubbed his jaw and popped it again on his own, fine, made her belly flutter.

There was a moment when he understood, and he gave her a familiar smirk.

Loki slammed her back against the glass of his containment cell, arms at either side of her head, as he ravaged her throat with teeth and tongue. The resounding dull thud of her head against thick glass had her ears ringing, but it felt alright. Felt nearly good to have her thoughts wiped clean. Every thought, every focus, but on this one act right here, right now.

It felt amazing.

And then she remembered.

That missing bit.

" _Scream_ …"

The happy sound of her laughter cut off the rest of what he said, and he bucked against her. She happily tightened her legs around him, having had her arms released to lock almost chokingly tight around his neck, but he didn't seem to mind. She got her leverage and he removed the rest of what was in the way, and then he was inside her.

"You like being hit—"

" _Quiet, Jane_."

"That's why—after every time—so quickly—"

He bit her neck hard enough to prick the slightest amount of blood, thrusting just so so that she was forced to bite back a cry. It hurt. And it was glorious. Again, again, again…repeated until she was blinded, vision fuzzy but bright. Nostrils filled with the sweat of his skin and the day old wash of his hair. The scent of blood and ash that seemed to stick on him no matter how many times he bathed.

Ice spread over her skin, nearly burning from the intensity of the cold and she opened her eyes to see the beginning reach of the bluish hue of his Jotun heritage darken the expanse of his neck. His eyes were hooded, watching her motions, hearing the sounds she fought to contain.

Again, he repeated it, like a mantra she'd once heard him chant.

" _Scream for me_. Jane—"

Another thrust, another moment of deepest ruby red peering at her, looking into her, for his one command to be obeyed. It peeled from her throat, short and throaty and a sound she was vaguely aware of to be thankful the cell was sound proof.

She eased off from around him, thighs trembling from the strength of having to support most of her weight as he'd held her waist through most of it. But he gripped her face before she could look away.

"I will not battle you unless you have wronged me. You have not wronged me. And you are a scholar Jane Foster, not a warrior."

He searched her eyes as his own receded to a deep, wary green.

"No matter how much you try to claim you are."

OOO

The usual nights resumed.

The belt was laid hard and ripe against the fresh curve of skin and sinew, and Loki accepted it as easily as he always had.

It made Jane wonder, not for the first time…

Had he been beaten before?

Had he been subjected to worse, far worse?

Had he been forsaken by his family, as Thor had so obviously done the past year?

What had this god bared? Lived through? Survived?

The answer was obvious: she didn't know. She never would.

Because Loki wasn't like that.

His past was his own just as his future was. Jane had no part in that.

She suspected she hardly had a part in his present.

OOO

"You're sick," she said.

"Oh, but Jane," he whispered along the elegant bend of her neck. "That's the best part. I'm not the sick one. You are. Watching you scream is…is— _breathtaking_."

He licked her neck, like he had a fascination with it. The welts were raised thick and unyielding as she ran her hands over his shoulder. As they always would, night after night. Again, again, again. Loki. Loki. Loki.

His breath was icy cool against her skin, "For me. Only me."

Jane knew it was true, she saw it in the lingering stares he gave her every day. In the small love-marks she saw in the mirror every day after her shower.

"You're running out of secrets to give."

"Am I? How would you know after my many—long years of life?" he returned, moving against her.

"Not everyone should have to give themselves. Not entirely."

"No, that would be masochistic, truly." A bitter, clever laugh, like he enjoyed the prospect of others knowing how he'd suffered.

"Who wants to know everything about another person?"

"Who, indeed."

Jane met red, red eyes, smelt the smoken carnage of his skin and felt the tug of soft lips in contrast to the rough, edged skin beneath her fingers.

And she thought, _who indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an evil, evil shipper and friend, who I hope enjoys this as much as I surprised myself whilst writing it.
> 
> New art and links up on my tumblr~ [mrhiddles]
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! :]


End file.
